A Supernatural Infatuation
by BunBunBun
Summary: "Man, this pie is awesome," Dean swooned and grinned at his brother, "Seriously, dude, I could kiss you for this - not that I would, of course." Living the life, Sam and Dean had stopped striving for happiness a long time ago. But in truth, they could be good together. And it only takes a Cupid, the Greek god of wine and a marriage counsellor for them to see it. [Wincest]
1. A Supernatural Infatuation

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Supernatural or its characters.

_Setting/spoilers:_ Roughly during the second half of season six, minor spoilers for 5.14 (Cupid and stuff).

_Summary: _"I sure as hell won't be going through puberty all over again just because some asshat in heaven wants to toy with us." When Sam and Dean grow a tad too close for either brother's comfort, they recognize their sudden attraction as a Cupid's doing. But what can they even do about it? [unresolved Wincest, tag to 5.14]

_Warnings:_ Wincest...ish

_Notes:_ Please go easy on me; I only just got onto the Supernatural train, and it's awesome :D  
I do, however, have a slightly bad conscience about enjoying the Winchester brothers' awesome bromance a tad too much, so here goes my attempt at, err, justifying that. I'm pretty sure the Cupid thing must've been done before, but once I realized it allowed for some really nice interaction, I just had type something like this myself.  
Also, I tried a slightly new approach to writing by keeping it crisp and short to let actions speak rather than words and impressions. Then again, though, I did drift off occasionally, but I hope it'll still make a decent read.

So...enjoy!

* * *

**A Supernatural Infatuation  
**

The Winchesters had become a problem – faithless, ruthless, meddling. Nonetheless, their misdeeds had not outweighed their potential value yet. Heaven still had plans in store for them, but until their time came to pass, they would do more harm than good.

For that reason, it was decided to occupy them with matters aside from hunting. And it just so happened that an unlikely infatuation was the least cruel option to accomplish that.

* * *

NOW

Removing his hands from the Winchester brothers' shoulders, Castiel stepped back to face both of them solemnly. "It is done," he announced, "The sigils have been removed."

Releasing a breath he had not even noticed he had been holding, Dean flung himself back onto the armchair he had occupied earlier. "Thanks, man," he sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, "Of all the weird things to happen to us, this entire Cupid affair was just...wrong." Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath.

"Um, Dean..." he heard Sam's deep voice protesting weakly next to him.

Furrowing his brows, Dean opened his eyes again, omitting a low grunt that was stuck in his throat as soon as he caught sight of a broad chest, stray strands of hair and a troubled set of puppy dog eyes. "Holy shit," he breathed in shock, "It's gotten even worse."

He kept staring helplessly at the view his brother provided until he was finally, thankfully, shaken out of his admiration by Castiel clearing his throat. Before the angel could phrase anything, though, Dean had already jumped out of the armchair and approached him angrily. "Cass, if those stupid Cupid marks are really gone," he growled dangerously and forced himself not to steal another glance at the captivating sight next to him, "how come I still want to _bang my own brother?_"

"Dean," he heard Sam's distractingly raspy voice rising next to him, "I'm afraid it's –"

"You shut your mouth," Dean interrupted him harshly. Not because he wanted to, but because he feared his knees might give out on him if his brother kept talking. It was taking all his composure not to look at him as it was, and the freaking low tune of his voice managed distracting him at least equally well.

"What your brother wants to say, and what he is right with," Castiel began patiently, watching both Winchesters attentively, "is that you have been under the bond's influence long enough for actual feelings to develop. Cupids do not form entire relationships; they merely light the first spark, metaphorically speaking."

Stricken, Dean stumbled back a few paces. Unfortunately, though, that brought his annoyingly handsome brother back into his field of vision. For better or for worse, Sam looked just as disturbed by their entire situation and was struggling just as hard not to meet his brother's eyes. "So you're saying," the younger Winchester drawled and motioned towards both himself and his brother, "_this _will stay forever?"

Tranquillized by voice and fluid motions, Dean simply kept staring. Watching that mouth moving in agitation got his heart beating furiously in his chest.

And then, annoyingly enough, his eyes locked with Sam's.

Damn.

Castiel was probably explaining what they could or could not do to avert the worst case szenario. Unfortunately, though, his words no longer registered with either brother. They simply stood staring at each other in fascinated bewilderment. Finally no longer able to uphold the distance, Dean stepped closer, reached out to pull Sam's face closer to his and rasped one sentence into his ear, "I'm gonna fucking kill the naked son of a bitch that did this."

* * *

FIVE WEEKS AGO

It started harmlessly enough.

"Dude, there's some shaving cream on your face," Sam pointed out when they had just entered a diner for breakfast. Strangely, though, he did not indicate the location of the splotch on his own face, but simply leant over and brushed it off Dean's cheek.

While startled, the older brother could not help replying with a tease, "You sure that's shaving cream?"

Eyes widening, Sam immediately wiped his hand off against his trousers. "Dean, that's _gross,_" he grumbled in disgust and shook his head, "I don't even wanna know how that got on your face, man."

* * *

FOUR WEEKS AGO

"Dude, look at that," Dean laughed heartily as he unloaded his earnings right on top of the book his brother was currently occupied reading.

Sam nearly jumped in surprise and settled for a light glare that soon turned into an expression of pleasant surprise. "How did you do that?" he asked and eyed the quite large stack of casino chips rather appreciatively.

"Earned fair and square," Dean grinned in victory and slumped onto the chair next to his brother, "Man's gotta be lucky sometimes."

Sam replied with a chuckle, "You should do that more often, you know."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "Every week, Vegas week?" he grinned and nodded, "I'm so in."

Sam shook his head with another light chuckle. "I wasn't talking about that," he clarified and met his brother's eyes briefly, "You should laugh more often. It suits you."

Dean's eyes widened. "Sammy, are you flirting with me?" he teased and shook his head, "because, dude, you're fine and all, but I'm way outta your league."

Rolling his eyes, Sam freed his book from the chips and closed it, "I'm just saying that it's good to see you smiling again. Maybe we should really..." He hesitated for a moment, pondering with a strange expression. "...take more time to enjoy the finer things in life, you know?"

Tilting his head, Dean caught sight of a busty blonde rounding the corner in just that moment. "I totally get what you mean," he grinned goofily and set off to tail his latest prey, yet not without a final wink at Sam, "Gotta love the finer things in life."

* * *

THREE WEEKS AGO

"Dammit, Sam, answer the phone," Dean cursed into the receiver, shoved it back into his pocket with an angry huff and put the pedal to the metal.

That damn bastard of a demon had summoned reinforcements and Sam was stuck in a diner at the other end of town.

Several minutes later, Dean stepped around the corpses piled at the door and feared for the worst. Sure enough, he recognized two of them as the remains of demons, each throat cut cleanly, but...

"Sammy!" he called out, and was immensely relieved to hear some barely audible reply from behind the counter. Crossing the room in fast strides, he finally caught sight of his brother struggling up from a puddle of blood - most of which was hopefully not his own.

"Dean," Sam greeted him with a drowsy smile and cleared his throat when his voice did not work all that well, "you're a sight for sore eyes, man."

"Dude, that's my line," Dean replied softly as he hurried over to steady his swaying brother on their way out. "Even though I usually pick up chicks with it rather than some 200 pounds of brother," he added with a good-natured grin of relief, "And I don't usually have to carry them all the way to the motel, either."

"Yeah," Sam chuckled hazily and rolled his eyes, "You don't scare them away until after you've securely tied them to the bed."

Laughing, Dean almost had both of them stumble over a fallen chair. "Don't worry, man, that's not gonna happen to you," he promised and sent his most likely concussed brother a sideways glance. "But you should stay conscious until I'm done with you," he warned and added with a playful smirk, "Otherwise I'd feel like a pervert."

Sam choked on his own breath. "Dude, that's just sick."

* * *

TWO WEEKS AGO

Staring up at the cracked ceiling of a shabby, run-down motel room that flickered in and out of his vision, Dean heaved a sigh.

It was a bit disappointing, really.

He had always expected to go down fighting. Hell, he had done so several times already. But this time, no such luck – this time, some tiny, freakish, pink pixie had poisoned him through a cheeseburger.

And, man, it had been one hell of a cheeseburger. As a matter of fact, it had been so good he _should_ have grown suspicious.

But as he had not, he had suddenly found himself toppling out of his chair with his vision fleeting and his body growing numb.

But...if that was really _it..._ death by cheeseburger was at least one sweet way to die. And it had tasted heavenly. Having dropped close to where his head had hit the floor, it still smelled awesome, too.

There was probably only one scent he would prefer to that one.

"Dean!" Sam called out and pulled his brother into a desperate half-embrace as he injected the vaccine into his veins, "Pull it together, Dean, you'll be better in no time!"

Cuddling up against his saviour's chest, Dean inhaled deeply and released a small, hoarse chuckle of undisguised relief, "I've missed your musk, Sammy."

* * *

ONE WEEK AGO

Waking from yet another far too weird and far too arousing dream, Dean scrunched his nose. The room reeked of sweat and desire – most of which had probably been caused by his very lively dream landscape.

It certainly didn't help that said landscape, well-built, half-dried and covered in a towel only, exited the bathroom in that very moment, frowning at an obviously still quite groggy Dean in disbelief.

"Geez, just how much porn did you watch last night?" Sam sighed and went to open the window, exposing far too much skin in the process.

Watching his brother's muscles flexing and unflexing for a treacherously long moment, Dean gulped before he forced himself to look away. "Too damn much," he admitted grumpily and opened his first beer of the day to drown the awkwardness in alcohol.

He had been staring at Sam the entire night.

* * *

EARLIER TODAY

They had been hunting a single vampire and had accidentally run into a nest.

Much worse, though, they had wound up cramming into a tiny storeroom on their escape. Luckily, the vamps retreated soon enough. But that did not mean either brother dared moving any time soon. Pressed against each other far too intimately for comfort, both were breathing heavily, thoughts occupied by something much more troubling than the hunt.

Both were aroused far too obviously for the other not to notice.

"Not a word, Sam," Dean growled with a dangerous glare, "A man's got his needs, and if you ever mention this..." His expression darkened even further. "...I swear I'm gonna kill you."

Needless to say, three hours later he found his brother waiting for him in their cheap motel room, brooding on the sofa with his elbows on his knees, fingers intertwined. He was wearing an expression that said 'We need to talk' far too clearly.

So much for the efficiency of death threats.

"Dean, listen," Sam began and sought his brother's eyes, "I'm afraid we've got ourselves in a... situation."

Sitting down on the armchair next to the couch much more forcefully than necessary, Dean did not bother hiding his agitation. "Come on, Sammy," he began, "there is nothing to talk about. We've been on the job 24/7 and we both haven't got laid in, well, forever." Gulping down another mouthful of beer, he huffed. "It's only human to develop some strange cravings under those conditions."

But Sam only looked back at him blankly. "No, it's not," he stressed, "and you know that, Dean. We're _brothers_."

"Yes, we're brothers," Dean agreed firmly, "and we both just so happen to be good-looking and sex-deprived." Getting up again, he lifted his index finger, "You know what we're doing about this? We get to the closest bar, get drunk and have our merry ways with some hot chicks."

He was already half the way to the door when he noticed Sam did not bother following. "Dude, I don't know about you," the younger brother spoke, shaking his head before looking up with a troubled expression, "But if I get drunk right now, I'm going to have my merry way with _you_ rather than anyone else."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, blinked and closed it again. Returning to the couch slowly, he released a nervous laugh. "So what are you saying?" he demanded slowly, "_'Take me, Dean, because we both want it?'_" He shook his head violently, "We're not even going there, man."

Sighing deeply, Sam rested his chin on his palm. "You're getting me wrong," he said, his eyes fixed on Dean yet drifting quickly, "and worse, you're getting me distracted."

"Well, excuse me!" the older Winchester retorted at once.

"So doesn't that strike you as odd?" Sam went on.

"It doesn't strike me as odd," Dean clarified and got louder, "It strikes me as insane. It's outright disturbing. So what?"

Another sigh, another approach. "Okay, let me phrase this differently," Sam explained slowly, "We're both straight, we're brothers and we've been travelling together for practically our entire lives." He raised his eyebrows, daring Dean to understand the problem. "So with all these premises, we suddenly start getting attracted, to each other of all people, and at the exact same time?"

A short moment of silence passed before Dean replied with a disbelieving blink. "You're saying that this," he began, motioning between the two of them, "that _us,_ is a friggin case?"

Sam offered a discontent half-nod, "I don't know, maybe. We've encountered a Cupid before."

Inhaling deeply, Dean weighed his options. "So now what?" he drawled, "We ask Cass to do what, un-gay us?"

"I fear that is hardly possible. Your sexual orientation is an integral part of your personality."

As usual, Castiel's unannounced arrival had both brothers flinch.

"Castiel, you do know something, don't you?" Sam enquired with a frown.

"It appears heaven deemed it necessary to...distract you," Castiel offered solemnly.

"Distract us from what?" Dean demanded at once. Pacing around the angel, he added heatedly, "More importantly: _you knew?_"

Yet Castiel shook his head in regret. "I apologize," he stated, "I would have intervened if I had found out it time."

"But it's undo-able, is it?" Dean demanded hopefully, "It's those Cupid marks doing this, is it? So..." Tilting his head, he threw his arms in the air. "Undo the marks, undo the curse, right?"

Once again, Castiel fixed him with a stare. "It is not quite as simple, Dean."

"We gotta try, Cass," the older Winchester all but pleaded, "I sure as hell won't be going through puberty all over again just because some asshat in heaven wants to toy with us."

* * *

NOW

What may have been caused by the Cupid's marks did not appear to vanish with their removal.

"I am sorry I cannot be of further assistance," Castiel spoke, slightly awkward yet mostly unfazed by the display of the more-than-brotherly affection in front of him, "I fear you will have to face your feelings the traditional way."

The sound of wings rustling indicated his departure, yet the Winchesters were far too occupied by their mutual proximity to be taking proper notice. They had heard his words well enough, but they still failed to move at all.

"Sammy," Dean rasped, still close enough to his brother's face to actually feel his warm breath on his skin.

"Dean," Sam replied breathlessly, leaning forward at last. Yet rather than giving in to a kiss they both craved, he pulled Dean into a tight hug. "We need to do the right thing here, Dean," he whispered in a torn voice and stepped back to stare into Dean's eye, "We need to decide whether, underneath all the angel crap, this is something we actually want to go with."

Breathing shakily, Dean stumbled back a few paces. At the very least, the spell of his brother's insane attraction was broken for the moment, but... "You actually think we have a choice?" he asked in disbelief.

"There's always a choice," Sam stated with a shrug and raised his eyebrow, "What were you about to do about it before we found out a Cupid's behind this?"

Dean tilted his head. "Denial, pretty much," he offered and arched an eyebrow, "You?"

Sam replied with an unhappy shrug and sighed, "Acceptance, pretty much."

Dean's eyes widened. "Acceptance, as in 'Let's lock that away with all my other strange fetishes'," he asked, "or acceptance as in 'I'm gonna jump him in his sleep'?"

Sam rolled his eyes and retorted, "Acceptance, as in 'We'll never have any functional relationships anyway so this is the closest to love we can ever get'." He sighed, yet his glare stayed just as intense, "And if I remember correctly, _you_ were the one moaning _my_ name last night."

Laughing nervously, Dean turned away, "So you noticed, huh?"

"You were not exactly subtle about it," Sam replied and leant back with a sigh, "So where do we go from here?"

A short silence fell before Dean arrived at a decision. "We'll wait and see if...this...doesn't just wear off after all," he offered with a lopsided grin as he strode towards the door, "For starters, I'll go get some grub for me and the missus. We'll figure this out, Sammy, just like we always have."

Looking up, the younger Winchester seemed even more miserable than before. "There's nothing to figure out, Dean," he stated flatly, "We need to decide _before_ anything happens we'll eventually regret."

Sighing, Dean returned to his brother's side and heartily slapped his hand onto his shoulder. "You know, Sammy," he began, "no matter what shit storm got fired our way, we've always made it through - because we've always been sticking to whatever felt right at the time." He smiled softly. "Altogether, this is no different from other cases," he stated, "So let's just handle it like we always do."

Sam looked far from convinced, yet he did arch an eyebrow. "You do realize that would mean either slaughtering a Cupid or surrendering to its scheme?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded grimly, "That's definitely on my to-do list."

Sam frowned and asked, "Which one?"

As their eyes met once again, Dean's dark expression melted into a sly grin. "You'll find out soon enough, Sammy."

FIN...?

* * *

Notes: Lots of fun and lots of awkwardness - and an open end :D Will true love prevail or will they get away with a scare and two aching hearts? It's up to you guys, really. Which do you prefer?

Technically, this is meant as a one shot...though I might add some fun once I figure out whether I'm actually shipping this.

In any case, thank you for reading! I hope it was worth your while :)


	2. A Supernatural Hangover

_Notes:_ Wow, thank you all for the great feedback! I'm really, really happy about all the comments, faves and follows!

So here we are with the half-announced next part. There really wasn't anybody who outright objected to Wincest in the comments. Within the story, however, well, let's just say, I don't see Sam and especially Dean abandoning their stubborn manliness without a sufficient amount of shipping cliches that would force them to face their feeling eventually. This is what brought this on.

So enough with the rambling - enjoy!

* * *

**A Supernatural Hangover**

* * *

10 HOURS EARLIER

"Dude, you just let him go like that?" Sam repeated in disbelief as he stumbled into the abandoned storeroom, apparently hurt from fending off a bunch of crazed women but not badly so.

"Yup," Dean agreed and grinned at his brother, "Just like that, he's gone with the wind."

Stepping closer, Sam squinted through the darkness. "Dean, are you drunk?" he asked in disbelief.

Swaying just a tiny little bit, Dean just kept grinning. "Just feeling good for once, man," he hummed and pointed at his brother, "and you should, too."

Now fully alerted, Sam grabbed his brother by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "He got to you, didn't he?" he asked in worry, "What do you remember?"

Opening his mouth, Dean took a moment to actually think about the question before he resumed grinning wryly. "I do remember you've got awfully long hair for a dude, man."

Sighing, Sam straightened again. "The same goes for your lashes, Dean," he replied tiredly, looked around the room and sighed once more when he found his brother watching him _appreciatively_. "We should probably get out of here," he commented dryly and turned towards the door, "I need you sober, man."

He set off, yet was startled to find Dean holding him back by his hand. More importantly, though, he was worried to see the heartfelt expression his brother's grin had turned into.

"You know what_ I_ need, Sammy?" Dean all but pleaded, "I need you happy." Grasping his brother's hand with both of his, he pulled him close. "So just let me make you happy, Sammy," he whispered into his ear.

And all of a sudden, Sam started to feel _good _as well.

* * *

NOW

It was dark, warm and quiet. Until something exploded just outside the window, that is.

Startled out of a highly fascinating dream, Dean was hit by an overwhelming wave of headache and nausea.

With his head throbbing and his body still in dire need of sleep, Dean was quick to just deduce that whatever explosion had awoken him in the first place might have been nothing but a car horn or a can dropping anyway. All things considered, he doubted he was up to fighting anyway. Thus, he simply moaned in agony and rolled around to bury his face in the pillow.

He was pleasantly surprised he had manoeuvred himself into a warm and comforting embrace with that motion.

Now, possible danger and explosions were one thing he could just ignore in his drowsy state of mind. A hot body dozing invitingly close to him, however, was a different matter entirely.

Squinting through the darkness, Dean could barely even make out the outlines of the chick he must have picked up at some point last night – all of which he could not quite remember, thank you very much.

Sure enough, she was tall, well-built and dark-haired. Sighing softly – and by no means longingly! - Dean reached out to play with her hair. She seemed alarmingly easy on the eye, had a pleasant aroma to her and must have been enough of a welcome challenge for him to actually feel somewhat sore after whatever exercises they had gone through.

And yet, still looking at her frame, he could not help feeling just a bit disappointed with himself, really. For quite a while now, he had been doing his best to avoid this kind of woman.

The kind of woman that reminded him of Sam.

When a Cupid had shot both him and his brother quite lethally in regards of their love life, they had chosen to blatantly ignore their new-found attraction to each other - not because they did not want it, per say, but because neither brother dared messing up their already strained relationship even further.

Sam might be as delectable as he wanted, but he was still his baby brother. He needed Dean to protect him, not to take advantage of him. And, well, doing the things to his brother he had most likely done with the chick next to him would send Dean spiralling right down a guilt trip of shame and awkwardness.

Altogether, Sam Winchester was not to be touched.

Which, in turn, made any remotely good-looking girls with some kind of resemblance to his younger brother even more attractive to Dean's eyes.

There had been this really hot lawyer with a small mole on her cheek in Illinois. On the next case, three states later, Dean had picked up a freakishly tall girl whose bitchface looked _just right_ for some reason. Another week later, he had met that tattoo freak at a biker pub. She had an abs of steel – and exactly the kind of bedroom stamina he had been looking forward to.

Naturally, Dean had not even noticed what he had been doing until, after several adventurous one-night-stands, Sam had eventually pointed out his brother's interesting change in preferences in a confusingly dispassionate way, "If you do want me that badly, you could just tell me."

Unable to even process a comment - or was it an _invitation_? - as blunt as that, Dean had failed to come up with any response whatsoever.

Sam Winchester was not to be touched.

Ever since that fateful day, however, Dean had at least taken his baby brother's words into consideration in picking up the kind of shorter, busty women he had used to prefer before, well, before Sam.

It had been a good change of pace, and he had felt less perverted. Naturally, these chicks reacted just as badly to being called "Sam" as those before them had, but never mind. Dean had been at ease with his libido for the first time in a long while.

Then he woke up with an epic hangover and no recollection of the night before next to a woman whose outline looked so much like Sam's it could actually be him.

On that notion, the leg brushing against his was awfully hairy for a woman's.

The arm draping itself around his back was awfully muscular for some random stranger.

The voice whispering a sleepy "Just a little longer" into his ear was awfully unmistakable in its own right.

Any former comfort forgotten, Dean froze.

"Well, shit."

* * *

THREE WEEKS AGO

"Dude," Dean whined as he heard the door to their motel room opening and closing, "Please tell me you found something edible. Would you believe they even shut down the freaking _gas station_ at night in this backwater town?"

True enough, as he finally appeared in his brother's field of vision, Sam was holding _something_. "As a matter of fact, I considered the possibility _before_ sunset," he announced and tilted his head when he tried to distinguish Dean's body from the denim-coloured sheets he had somehow gotten entangled in when he had unceremoniously dropped on them an hour earlier.

The day had been draining at best, yet at the prospect of food, Dean bothered struggling up again. "So what've you got?" he asked, eyeing the bag eagerly.

"Oh, you know, nothing special," Sam stated with a shrug as he pulled out the bag's contents, "Just some bacon sandwiches and the best apple pie in town."

Staring at the food as if it were a miracle, Dean accepted it graciously. He unwrapped the pie with all the urgency of starving man and took a hungry bite off it. "Oh man, this is awesome," he swooned and grinned at his brother with his mouth still full, "Seriously, dude, I could kiss you for this."

Unpacking his own meal, something that looked suspiciously vegetarian - again! - Sam arched an eyebrow.

"Not that I would, of course," Dean added hastily and took another far too huge bite, "Don't get your hopes up." He waved the sandwich in the air, "Right now, this baby is my only love interest."

* * *

TWO WEEKS AGO

It was just one lone werewolf. So how exactly had it managed disarming both Winchesters?

"Dude, grab your gun!" Sam called out as he kicked the creature off himself.

"I can't see shit!" Dean shot back angrily, trying to blink his eyes clean of whatever he'd been sprinkled with. Not quite succeeding at that task, he felt around the floor in the feeble attempt to at least get a hold of the gun, "Where is it?"

Reacting quickly, Sam struggled up and dashed towards the weapon himself, grabbing it just as Dean did. Unprepared for the sudden resistance, though, he sacrificed his balance in favour of the gun and shot the werewolf mere seconds before he stumbled backwards and right into Dean's arms. Now both sprawled awkwardly against each other, they were breathing heavily thanks to both the battle...and the sudden tension between them.

"Now I get why Crowley calls you moose," Dean broke the silence at last, "You weigh a ton, man."

At least that made Sam finally regain his composure. "Are you all right?" he asked and quickly struggled up again.

"I'll live," Dean replied as he rubbed his eyes and was grateful to find his vision clearing up, "but I'm not sure how quickly I'll recover from smelling your shampoo, man. What's it called? Pink fairy dust?"

"That's not my shampoo," Sam corrected him, "It's the stuff on your face." He bit back a laugh. "You're glittering, Dean."

* * *

ONE WEEK AGO

"Dude," Dean complained through gritted teeth, "have your fine motor skills always been this crappy?"

"My hands are shaking because you nearly gave me a heart attack," Sam explained wearily and took a deep breath before pushing the needle through his brother's skin for the fourth time. Watching Dean flinch in pain, he added quietly, "I thought you were dying, man."

"Man's gotta be allowed a death cry," the older Winchester objected gruffly, "In my defence, these Angel Blades do hurt as hell."

"I'm just glad it's only left a relatively shallow cut," Sam commented before setting the final stitch.

After bearing the pain with manly dignity, Dean allowed himself a small chuckle. "I guess you saved my hide again, huh?" commented good-naturedly, "Though I have to admit, you went pretty barbaric on that Angel even by our standards."

As he began carefully covering the wound in bandages, Sam did not bother looking up and phrased an absent-minded reply, "I told you, I panicked."

Arching an eyebrow, Dean could not help releasing a low whistle. "I like it when you get all protective over me," he grinned, if only to lighten the mood.

As expected, Sam paused and sent him _the look_. "Maybe I'll just let you suffer a bit longer next time, then," he retorted and finished the bandaging at last.

Even though he winced slightly when pulling his shirt back down, Dean kept grinning. "Kinky bastard," he commented with a wink.

Shaking his head, Sam sighed and got up.

As he spent an unnecessarily long moment watching his brother taking a gulp of the whiskey he had just cleaned the wound with, Dean suddenly felt the urge to phrase something he had intended not to ever mention. "There I say stuff like that and you don't even flush any more," he observed slowly, "So that means things are finally getting back to normal, right? Between us?"

Frowning deeply, Sam stopped fiddling with the items to meet his brother's gaze. "I guess so," he replied with a non-committal shrug, "I mean, unlike some weeks ago, me touching you didn't bother you enough for you to moan my name."

Shaking his head, Dean laughed the matter off. "Been waiting for that to happen, have you?" he countered and chuckled to himself.

But if he was honest – the suturing had been so agonizing he was proud of himself for not crying out at all. Thus, moaning anything had been far from his mind in that moment.

He would not have minded Sam kissing him better, though.

As a matter of fact, he had concentrated on that thought when trying to ignore the pain.

But of course, they had an agreement.

He would never tell Sammy about any of these thoughts.

* * *

NOW

Unable to keep staring but failing to tear his gaze away, Dean gulped.

He was screwed.

He had not even gotten far enough to stomach the implications of waking up naked next to his friggin brother when said friggin brother opened his eyes sleepily. "Dean?"

Far too close for comfort – and he certainly wouldn't forget the view of Sam's bedroom eyes nor the sound of his raspy morning voice up close any time soon – Dean shook his brother's arm off himself and skidded a safe distance away. "Dude," he began, clearing his throat to get rid of the awkwardness but made things only worse with his next words, "Please tell me you're not as naked and hungover as I am."

Blinking again, Sam sat up with a puzzled expression and did not even notice the sheets sliding down his body, "What do you..." He trailed off as soon as he was awake enough to notice his older brother staring at his bare torso in a mixture of admiration and terror. Paling, he pulled the sheets back up. "This...isn't really what it looks like, is it?" he asked slowly.

"You tell me," Dean demanded and buried his face in his palm. "The last time I had a blackout this huge," he added helpfully, "I'd banged everything that moved for an entire night."

Closing his eyes, Sam took a moment to gather his thoughts. "For starters, I don't remember much myself," he offered numbly, "But I don't feel _sore_, if that's any consolidation."

"Good for you," Dean grunted and rubbed his temple, "I'm sore enough for the two of us anyway."

Sam's eyes widened. "Oh god, Dean," he rambled as all colour drained from his face, "I mean, you're small and handy, but I never meant to –" Stopping himself before saying anything worse, he mustered his best puppy dog eye, "I'm sorry."

Dean, on the other hand, was at least equally confused with the entire situation. "What are you even talking about?" he retorted with a frown and pointed at a large, nasty bruise on his shoulder, "Were you the one who beat me up?"

Gulping, Sam laughed weakly and looked away. "No, of course not," he clarified as he looked around the room.

Meanwhile, Dean grew suspicious. "But...?" he prompted.

"Well, you said you were sore," Sam offered with a slight grimace, "and we were talking about a different kind of sore."

This time, it was Dean's eyes that widened in shock. "Dude, what the hell," he ground out and jumped up from the bed, still wrapped in the sheet, "I'm sore everywhere _but there_."

He stomped a few angry paces before he realized he had never even seen this room before. Any prior agitation forgotten, he turned back to face his brother.

"Where the hell are we?"

As he glared out of the window at an empty parking lot, all colour drained from his face at last, "And where the hell is my car?"

* * *

The drive back to their actual motel was a quiet one – if you did not count a suspicious elderly couple accusing them of stealing a car, that is.

Nonetheless, and after puppy dog assuring them that they had been forgetful enough lock the key inside the car, the Winchesters were the road once again.

"Dude, about earlier," Dean began.

"The earlier we don't remember or the earlier this morning?" Sam quipped unhappily.

"Both, probably," Dean replied and tilted his head, "The sore-thing, you know."

Slightly troubled, Sam looked out at the street. "I panicked, okay?" he warned, "Just let it go."

Glancing at his brother, Dean chose to try a different approach. "So how exactly am I small and handy?" he asked playfully.

Sighing deeply, Sam forced out a small chuckle. "Dude, you were the one to suggest we might have broken that particular taboo," he explained heatedly, "I felt pretty unharmed and you were complaining, so of course I assumed it could have only gone one way."

"And you're so wrong, man," Dean replied, "FYI, if anything had happened between us, you wouldn't have felt _pretty unharmed_." He grinned. "You would have felt fucking amazing, that's what."

Rolling his eyes, Sam sighed yet again. "Too much information, Dean," he told him, "Nothing happened, and nothing is going to."

Now that comment had Dean frowning. "So you're saying," he drawled at last, "the whole Cupid thing's worn off at last? No dreams, no jealousy, no attraction whatsoever?"

Sam sent him a funny look. "Yeah, pretty much," he offered simply.

Tilting his head, Dean chuckled lightly, "Dude, be glad you don't know what you're missing."

Of course he had noticed Sam watching him attentively lately, but with all the shit they had gone through, he could no longer tell whether his younger brother was being concerned or fascinated. Considering his own Cupid-induced crush had worsened rather than worn off, he had half-expected Sam to share the same fate.

But it was probably better that way. As long as at least one of them got a hold of the situation, that was absolutely all right with him.

* * *

"So apparently," Sam reported while scanning his most recent browsing history, "we've been hunting Dionysus, the Greek god of wine, ritual madness and ecstasy."

Looking up from their father's journal, Dean sent his brother a wry grin. "Sounds like a great guy to me."

"You remember the party crashers that had us driving here in the first place, right?" Sam prompted.

"Yeah," Dean replied slowly, "Three young, attractive women dead of a heart attack – each during an orgy of some kind." Grinning pervertedly, he added, "Top priority case, that."

Nodding, Sam shut the laptop. "Apparently, those meetings were a bit more intense than actual orgies," he explained, earning a low whistle from Dean which he quickly ignored, "The lore speaks of Dionysian Mysteries, a kind of trance induced to remove inhibitions and _liberate the individual to its natural state_."

"So that god just, what, got a bit too enthusiastic and overexcited those poor girls?" Dean summarized, "I mean, I could imagine worse deaths." Frowning, he corrected himself, "As a matter of fact, this is probably the best way to die ever. But still, we gotta find the guy." Clapping his hands, he got up with a predatory grin. "Time to do some in-action investigating, right?"

Sighing, Sam looked at his brother tiredly. "You do realize that's what got us these major blackouts, don't you?"

"Still, we don't exactly have any new leads except for some awkward early morning bromance," he replied and stalked towards the door, "So I say we do this and just, you know, decline the invitation this time."

"You can't be serious," Sam all but whined, yet got up to follow suit eventually.

"Wait," Dean asked, halting in his step, "How do we even kill it?"

Sam chuckled humourlessly, "We sober him up."

"Ah," Dean replied and turned back toward the exit, "Figures."

* * *

Frustrated to find yet another former hideout of their current target abandoned, Dean dialled his brother's number.

"You got anything?" he heard Sam's voice answering.

"Aside from a fortune on coke and meth, I got nada," Dean grunted, "You?"

"I found a long-term lover of his, Brenda Greensward," Sam reported, "For some reason she kept complaining about how his last great gift was entirely wasted on – " He hesitated briefly, but Dean had a feeling it was exactly the time he needed to get his bitchface going. "– the likes of us."

"So you're saying we made some kind of deal with him?" Dean spluttered, "What do you mean, last great gift?"

"Apparently he left town as soon as we received whatever gift she was talking about," Sam stated and paused yet again, "I don't know, man, we might've just let him go because he was harmless."

"Or he might have drugged us and ran," Dean offered helpfully.

Sam sighed on the other end of the line. At least on this one, they agreed. "Still, I don't think we can find him again," he stated, "I've checked him online. He seems to have gone underground as soon as he left us in that hotel room."

That got a gasp out of Dean. "You're saying some beardy guy in a tunic undressed me while drunk?"

Sighing yet again, Sam changed the subject. "Anyway, I got the address of yesterday's event," he offered, "If we're lucky, we might remember something after all."

* * *

From the outside, it looked like your average family home.

From the inside, though, it was anything but usual.

"Sweet mother of God," Dean breathed in awe as he turned around repeatedly, taking in every detail of the most imaginative love den he had ever seen. "You can say about this guy whatever you want," he gaped and looked back at Sam, "But he's got class, man."

Maybe even because his brother did not seem to share his enthusiasm, Dean's grin only widened. "The only thing missing's a crowd of hot chicks," he mused playfully.

"The only thing missing," Sam corrected his brother and clicked his tongue, "is our recollection of the place."

"Experiencing his power for the first time tends to cause mental or physical confusion to most," they suddenly heard a voice behind them and whirled around to face the establishment's owner, a short, middle-aged woman with a carefree smile, "and yet, do you not feel refreshed from your experience?"

Tilting his head, Sam took a moment to consider her words. Dean, on the other hand, objected right away, "I don't know about you, but I don't see anything refreshing about getting drugged into oblivion."

Her eyes widened slightly, but did not lose their warmth. "Then your experience must have been so wonderful it felt like a dream," she all but beamed.

Dean, on the other hand, grew increasingly restless. "Listen, Lady, if you think it's a blessing you got yourselves into this kind of cr –" he ranted when he was suddenly cut off by a hand on his arm.

"Dean," Sam urged, but kept his face alarmingly blank, "Let's just go."

"What are you –," Dean protested, but was cut off once again.

"Thank you for your time," Sam told the house owner and made a beeline for the exit.

Dean's worry increased as he jogged after his brother, but he only raised his voice once they were outside again, "Sam, what the hell?"

Instead of a proper answer, he received a cheaply made leaflet shoved into his hands rather brusquely. "Mountainside lookout," he read aloud and eyed the overly photoshopped pictures of what appeared to be considered a tourist attraction sceptically before redirecting his frown at his brother, "It's got the view, it's got the privacy, it might be straight out of your average chickflick." He cracked a lopsided grin that vanished quickly when his brother did not seem particularly amused. "What is this, Sammy?" Dean demanded more seriously as he waved the paper around.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "It's a leaflet I did not bother picking up from that love den's lobby yesterday because I knew you would dismiss it as girly anyway," he explained tensely.

"Well, you can't deny that," Dean countered with a shrug.

Sam sighed deeply, "In any case, I'm pretty sure that's where we ended up going nonetheless."

Dean opened his mouth to leave a quirky remark, but chose to hold his tongue after all. "How come?" he asked carefully as he led the way to their borrowed car.

Sam met his gaze with a tired expression. "She sais that what we dreamt is basically our most prominent memories from last night, right?" he summarized and shrugged, "So here we are: I dreamt about it."

Dean's eyes widened as his worst fears quickly arranged themselves to a finished puzzle – limited self-restraint, the privacy of the Impala's backseat underneath a brilliant starry sky and a cozy and naked morning after only allowed for one valid conclusion, really.

"We were stargazing," Sam added quickly upon noticing his brother's troubled expression and sighed softly – almost forlornly, "Just like we did in the old days."

* * *

When they reached the otherwise vacant lookout, the sun had long set. Not that Dean particularly cared for either daytime or scenery.

"Baby!" He exclaimed in sheer relief as he ran up to the familiar shape of the Impala and stroked her fondly, "I can't believe we ditched you here."

"We didn't," Sam offered as he strolled towards the railing and stared down at the small village below, "at least, not intentionally." He nodded towards the other side of the Impala, where a rather steep hillside led directly into the river below. "You got off the car on the wrong side and tumbled into the water," he explained with a small smile and went on, "I tried getting you out, but in the end, we were both washed to a riverbank close to the hotel we woke up in this morning." He nodded towards some lights half a mile down the river.

Sitting down on the hood of the Impala, Dean took a moment to contemplate the new information. "You 'dreamt' about all those details and didn't bother mentioning it?" he asked at last.

"I dreamt about us looking at the stars," Sam clarified and approached the car again, "the rest is just deductive reasoning. Some of our clothes were still wet in the morning, after all."

Chuckling softly, Dean stared up at the starry sky. "And there I was thinking your drug-induced self had coaxed my easily-convinced self into a clichéd make-out session when it turns out we really just relished in nostalgia," he mused both in guilt and relief, speaking more to himself than to his brother, and he allowed himself to enjoy the view at last, "Then again, this is pretty amazing."

At the sound of bottle caps popping, he turned to find Sam rounding the car with two bottles in his hand and accepted his with a sly grin.

"Of course it is," Sam agreed as he leant against the hood as well, "We used to do this, you know."

"Yeah," Dean hummed as he took a sip of his beer.

"And then we fell for each other and things like this became too awkward for you," Sam added more quietly.

_What the..._

Gulping down the beer in his mouth, Dean stole a glance at his brother. He was guilty of all charges, of course, but what could he do?

"Seriously, man," Sam went on and ran a hand through his hair, "the whole line of _But _w_e're brothers!_ argumentation kinda looses its foothold once we stop being brothers _because of it_."

As Dean took a deep breath, he felt his heartbeat fastening. "What are you saying, Sammy?" he asked, and he hated how hoarse his voice had become within a few moments only.

"I'm saying that I can't take this any longer," Sam announced quietly and heaved a sigh. "We're both quite obviously still attracted to each other," he elaborated and took a gulp of beer, "But you won't allow yourself to pursue that affection, so I lie about it to make it at least bearable on both of us."

Dean's eyes widened. "You do?", he rasped.

Sam sighed deeply. "The thing is, our entire approach to this is bull," he summarized and finally met his brother's eyes again.

Dean inhaled sharply when confronted with that raw emotion.

"So what does it take to make you see it?," the younger Winchester asked softly and placed his hand on Dean's, "to make you understand that there's no reason to feel bad for sharing moments like these?" A tiny, playful and absolutely mesmerizing smile was forming on his features. "For sharing more than that?"

Once again, Dean's breath hitched. "Sammy," he rasped, his gaze torn between between his brother's demanding eyes and that offending hand sending waves of heat through his body.

But he could not just...

He couldn't...

Could he?

"Nothing else, Sammy," he replied at last, and his voice broke just as his self-control did. Grabbing the hand resting on his own, Dean used it to yank both their bodies closer to each other.

As he dug his fingers into hilariously long hair, as he saw his own wanting reflected back at him in those eyes, as he heard a low hum of agreement, he gave in at last.

He finally claimed those lips as his, and it did not only feel _absolutely right_ - it felt _fucking amazing_.

* * *

They were sitting on the hood of the Impala, gazing at the starlit mountainside before them, each brother lost in his own thoughts.

Eventually, though, Sam's voice broke the silence. "What are we doing about Dionysus?" he asked softly.

Next to him, Dean released a quiet sigh. "I don't think he meant to kill those women," he explained leisurely, "As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure he promised to behave before he pulled that stunt on us."

Sam furrowed his brows. "You remembered?" he asked slowly.

"It was in my dream," Dean replied with a shrug, "Bits and pieces, but as you said – deductive reasoning, right?" Grinning lazily, he stole a glance at his brother, who started laughing for some reason.

"We've been high all night and this is your most memorable experience?" Sam asked good-naturedly, "I would have expected...less of you, really."

Watching his brother's features, which he had grown to admire against his better judgement, Dean could not help grinning back. "As I said, I caught bits and pieces – of a couple of different episodes, actually," he elaborated with a soft chuckle, "But you're right, there is really one part of the dream that struck me as particularly mind-blowing."

_Sammy smiling._

_Sammy looking all right for once._

_Sammy being happy. _

"...and I certainly wouldn't mind you stripping for me again, Sammy," Dean grinned brilliantly.

Watching his brother rolling his eyes and chuckling a soft reply of "You'll have to earn that," Dean could not help appreciating the view. Asides from the night before, he had not seen such a genuine and carefree smile on Sammy in many years.

And he fully intended to see it more often from now on.

He could not claim to be entirely comfortable with the situation, but after all the inner torment and his brother's recent speech, he finally understood that giving in was not just the only way for them to overcome the Cupid affair with their sanities still intact, but it might also turn out a blessing rather than a curse.

And he was not even bothered by the fact that this was no longer a matter of false bodily attraction and confused brotherly love. They had been given a chance to make things right at last – and maybe even a chance to a happy end.

END

* * *

Notes: Seriously, Sam and Dean deserve something going right with their lives for once. So here we are with them finally overcoming their denial.

I'm considering adding a third installment on this about what I think their established relationship would look like. But again, I can't promise anything (I'm working on another SPN piece right now), so I hope you're happy with how this turned out so far.

Thank you all for reading, and please feel free to drop a line if you liked it :)


	3. A Supernatural Fairy Tale

**Notes: **So here we are, with the promised third part! Again, muchos gracias to all those lovely people who bothered leaving some feedback. If you hadn't motivated me so much, I would have let this lie around for another month before writing on.

More explicitly, lots of love to IggyInin20218, mb64, murtaghxblaiseyum, tmk13, PadaleckiLoverrr and all those awesome anons/Guests :D

**Disclaimer**: Don't own SPN nor Lord of the Rings, obviously.

**Warnings** for cheesiness (and some beheading).

.

* * *

**A Supernatural Fairy Tale**

* * *

A DAY AGO

"You see, we've been together for a long time," Sam explained as calmly as he could, "So I've always known his as the bossy, perverted drunkard he is." Stealing a glimpse of Dean's scandalized face, he heaved a deep sigh. "I guess I hoped it would get better with time, but the thing is, he doesn't even try."

"Well, excuse me, Mr Perfect," Dean shot back and nearly rose from his chair before thinking better of it, gripping the arm rests tightly instead, "At least I'm not the one who's bitching all the time." He inhaled deeply, trying hard to calm his nerves. "I mean, if I make you this miserable, why do we even bother? Instead, you just keep busy working and complaining day in and day out." Huffing angrily, he threw his arms in the air. "I mean, what the hell, man?" he exclaimed, "We're supposed to be, like, happily ever after, and all I get is this! _Of course_ that keeps me drinking worse than ever!"

For a moment, both men glared at each other before looking away demonstratively. The third person in the room, sitting warily at the desk in front of them, could only sigh in response.

"Well then, Mr and Mr Smith, I see what brought you here," the small, wide marriage counsellor known as Dr Bauer began patiently and folded his hands on the table, "Why don't we start at the beginning. How did you two meet?"

* * *

NOW

"Sam? Dean? Are you there?"

Knocking impatiently on the door of the room he knew the boys would be occupying, Bobby heaved a sigh and reached for his lockpick. "You idjits damn better haven't done anything stupid again," he murmured angrily and yanked the finally unlocked door open to find Sam unconscious on the floor of their cheap motel room.

Dean, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. That, along with the golden ring on the younger Winchester's finger, could only mean one thing.

"Bollocks," Bobby cursed.

The monster specializing on married couples he had sent them to had killed ten people in ten days. And they had been stupid enough to play the bait.

* * *

A DAY AGO

"Listen," Dean began as they found themselves standing in the bedroom of two charming adolescents whom they had sworn to protect – and who were lying dead and bloodless at their feet in that moment. Needless to say, Dean was furious, "We tried it your way, now we try mine."

Looking around the room, which was decorated with all kinds of pop culture memorabilia, he quickly found what he was looking for and pulled two small golden items out of a vitrine.

Sam only understood them for what they were when Dean had already slipped one of the rings around his finger and the other one around his own. "Congratulations," the older brother grinned widely, "You're now Mrs Dean Winchester."

Torn between dismay and endearment, Sam failed to reply for a long time. Eventually, though, he got around to taking an actual look at the ring on his finger. "Seriously, Dean?" he asked as he recognized the writing and cited from memory, "_One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them. One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them._"

"Fitting enough for a marriage, don't you think?" Dean replied with a shrug and turned to stride out of the room. When he grabbed Sam's hand in passing, his grin widened even further, "Come on now, I can't kiss the bride in a crime scene, now can I?"

* * *

NOW

"What the hell were you thinking?" Bobby barked as he strode across the room, "You've been hunters long enough not to pull suicidal stunts like that. At the very least, you could have waited for me."

Clutching his head with his hands as he kept sitting at the same spot he had just woken up from, Sam was having trouble following his friend's movements. "When we tailed who we expected to be the next victim, the monster didn't show up," Sam replied slowly, still not entirely awake, "instead, it killed another couple, and the moment we went to investigate that, it got to our protégés as well." Grimacing, he lowered his head. "You can only bear losing that many lives on one job, Bobby."

"Now it's gonna take at least one more," the older hunter shot back, "Do you have any idea where it might have taken your brother?" He kept watching the younger Winchester warily as he slowly struggled back to his feet. From his earlier observation, Bobby had gathered that the only visible injury the boy had taken was some blunt trauma to the head. Having asked for his brother even before opening his eyes, Sam was at least focused, if slightly disoriented. But if Bobby's first aid knowledge was worth anything, it was only a slight concussion.

Sam would manage. Dean, however, might not.

"We've got about a dozen tracking devices on him just in case," the younger Winchester reported as he staggered towards the laptop and activated it quickly, "We'll find him in no time." His gaze darkened. "Him and what got him."

Frowning deeply, Bobby followed to watch the screen over his friend's shoulder. "Have you even found out what it is yet?" he asked.

Typing quickly, Sam replied, "Per couple, there were remains of a Djinn's poison in one of the vics each time."

"That would be the victim that's abducted first in each cycle," Bobby deduced.

Nodding, Sam went on. "The question is, what happened to their significant other?" he pondered, "All the victims have been sucked dry of blood, but it almost looks like the Djinn got only half of it."

"So you're thinking this is some kind of interracial cooperation?" Bobby suggested slowly, "A vamp and a Djinn working together? Now that's a new kind of weird love story."

"Tell me about it," Sam chuckled and hit the enter key at last, drawing his friend's attention to the golden ring around his finger once again.

"So that would be the second strange love story I find out about today," Bobby commented and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, "Congratulations, I guess?"

Following the older hunter's gaze, Sam froze for a second. "This isn't what it looks like," he replied quickly, paused with a frown and corrected himself, "Actually, it kind of is." As a more and more prominent blush appeared on the younger Winchester's features, Bobby's eyebrows rose further and further.

Finally, Sam gave up on his internal struggle with words and sighed. "See, Dean stole them in the last vics' flat," he explained with a half-hearted shrug, "As good a cover as any, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Bobby glanced at the screen that finally showed a map and what he hoped to be Dean's location. "I guess I've just never seen it coming you'd choose playing married on your own free will."

* * *

A DAY AGO

"I dare say, I have rarely counselled a couple with a history as intense as yours," Dr Bauer summarized and leant back in his chair, "You have grown so dependent on each other you cannot imagine being without another." He paused briefly, eyeing them both intensely, "That, however, is exactly the problem. You're so close you cannot be _with_ each other any more either - you agree with that, don't you?"

Frowning for a moment, both Winchesters shrugged in unison.

"If you're asking like that," Dean drawled, "it's really just the general situation that drives me crazy."

Dr Bauer arched an eyebrow. "General situation, as in what, for example?" he prompted.

"Well, he always puts work first," Dean explained.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Well, you always put sleep first."

"That's because you bitch whenever I suggest taking some days off," Dean shot back.

"You think some days off will get us more relaxed?" Sam huffed angrily and threw his arms in the air, "We're living in a car, for God's sake!"

Dr Bauer's eyes widened, yet before he could even say anything, Dean was addressing him directly. "You see that?" he asked while pointing at his furious husband, "Try surviving that bitchface for decades _without _going insane!"

* * *

NOW

The silence in the car was suffocating.

"So how did your counselling go?" Bobby tried to start a conversation as they dashed towards their destination way beyond speed limit.

Glancing over, he realized he should probably not have let Sam drive in the first place.

Replying, "It was kind of fun, actually," with a small smile, the boy seemed all right enough. But if the tension in his body and his pressure on the gas pedal were any indication, he was seething inside.

Of course he would be. His brother had just been abducted.

But Bobby could not help wondering - this kind of scenario had happened often enough before, and both Winchesters had usually managed keeping their cool better than that.

But, of course, both Winchesters hadn't mentioned words like _fun_ in quite a while. Something was definitely brewing behind the scenes, but they had more important problems to discuss for now. "I'm talking about the counsellor," Bobby clarified, "Did you find out whether he's in on this?"

Frowning, Sam shook his head with his eyes still glued to the road, "He seemed absolutely oblivious. It's almost as if he hadn't even known most of the victims had been patients of his – even though the case actually made it to all the local papers." Pausing briefly, he grimaced. "We figured it had to be someone from the staff, who could have hidden those papers as well, but we got nothing on that frontier, either," he added and ran a hand through his hair.

Frowning, Bobby finally looked at the street again. "So if it got you no information," he asked slowly, "how exactly does it qualify as fun?"

Tilting his head, Sam took another suspiciously long moment to summarize his thoughts, "Well, you know Dean. He loves role play, and more often than not, he just gets carried away."

Frowning, Bobby tried picturing the boys complaining about each other to someone other than him. Given their cover of a married couple, it formed quite a bizarre image.

Regardless of that, though, it must have done them some good at least.

The small smile on Sam's lips said much more than his words had.

* * *

Interestingly enough, the Djinn and its companion had chosen an old, run-down theatre as their hideout.

Slumped on a red armchair in the middle of the stage, Dean stayed motionless in spite of the blood being pumped out of his veins.

As soon as he caught sight of that scene, all colour drained from Sam's face. "Dean!" he exclaimed and crossed the distance as quickly as he could while still watching out for incoming danger.

Bobby did not even get to hold him back. "Sam, it's a trap," he called after him and cursed quietly when his words met deaf ears.

Then, however, he felt a knife pressed against his throat.

"It's not a trap," a female voice purred into his ears, "Not if their feelings are strong enough to overcome the poison."

Stealing a cautious glance over his shoulder, Bobby caught sight of a tad too many sharp teeth. So that was the vampire?

"We do them a favour," another voice clarified and he discovered it to belong to a tattooed man with strikingly blue eyes that had hidden in the shadows until that moment, "If their love is as broken as they perceive it to be, their remaining lives would be pure torment anyway. If it can be saved, however, the fear of losing a loved one is guaranteed to accomplish that."

Eyes widening, Bobby stared at the stage, where Sam was kneeling in front of his brother, and redirected his gaze at his offender before making a quick decision.

Sam and Dean might be sufficiently codependent on each other to count as an actual twosome, but this test was not designed for a faux married couple. There was no time to lose, and Bobby could only think of one alternative solution to ensure Dean's well-being.

Sensing both Djinn and vampire temporarily distracted by the brothers, he twisted out of the woman's grip, disarmed her and turned the tides by pressing his own machete against her throat. "Undo your spell or it's _you_ losing your loved one."

He had not expected the Djinn to show his fear that openly, but on top of that, there was something else in his gaze as he raised his hands in defeat. "Do not harm her," he demanded in a low grunt, "We have done your friends a favour."

Bobby narrowed his eyes and pressed the knife further against the vampire's throat. However, he was cut off from repeating the threat when the Djinn's body tensed and the tip of a bloody, silver knife appeared from within his chest.

"You call that a favour?" a pale yet otherwise fine Dean ground out as he dropped the silver knife onto the ground next to the dying monster, "Your first mistake was turning _me_ into the damsel in distress."

Shrieking in agony, the vampire wound herself out of Bobby's grip to hurry to her lover's side.

Naturally, she was beheaded a second later.

"Not that I'm complaining," Bobby commented as he wiped the blood off the machete after making sure Sam, too, was safe and sound, "But how did you manage _that_?"

Glancing at each other, the brothers shared a secret message before Dean replied with the tiniest grin, "Let's just say, we do share a profound bound."

* * *

FIVE MINUTES AGO

Dean was unconscious.

Dean was hurt.

Half-sitting, half-lying in that stupid chair, he looked like a ghost. AS he knelt down in front of his brother, Sam immediately ripped out the cannula channelling the blood out of that far too pale body before trying to find a way to actually wake him up.

Naturally, shaking him didn't help.

Naturally, slapping him did not work, either.

"Come on, man," Sam whispered into Dean's ear at a despairing voice and rested his forehead against his brother's, "You still owe me a honeymoon. Don't you dare denying me that."

Finally, he felt Dean's head shifting on its own accord.

Finally, he saw those eyes fluttering open.

Or rather, half-open. Dean had regained consciousness on some level, but with his half-lidded gaze unfocused and slurred voice hardly understandable, he was far from awake.

"Dean, what do you need me to do?" Sam pleaded softly, holding his brother's head so he could stare right into his eyes.

Dean, however, was still too out of it to actually meet his gaze. His quiet, inarticulate words, however, finally made sense. "Need...you...air," he rasped as his eyes focused at last, "CPR me, bitch."

His face softening, Sam was more than happy to oblige.

And he was more than happy to see it working when he found his brother returning the kiss so very eagerly, when he felt his arms pulling him closer, when he heard a low moan escaping his throat.

Far too soon they broke apart at last and he was immensely relieved to find a fully awake Dean staring back at him. "Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," Sam greeted him fondly, "welcome back."

Holding his gaze, Dean licked his lips, but seemed anything but amused. "You call me that one more time and I'll kill you –" As Dean's gaze focused on the entrance where Sam was shocked to find Bobby surrounded by both the vamp and the Djinn, he added grimly, "– just like that bitch of a receptionist that drugged us in the first place."

* * *

LATER THAT EVENING

"Thanks for saving our asses again, Bobby," Dean spoke as he pushed a bottle of bear into each of his friends' hands, "With me out and Sam the sap he is, who knows what would have happened." Sitting down on the couch next to his brother, he found himself welcomed by a disapproving scowl.

"I told you it was a bad plan," Sam clarified in agitation.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Dean grinned, leant back comfortably and put his feet on the table.

"It might have worked a bit too well," Bobby commented as he watched them from the armchair and did not fail to notice Dean's arm lying comfortably on the backrest right behind Sam, "Or do you have any other explanation for the fact you're still wearing those rings?"

Both Winchesters looked at him before frowning at each other.

"You didn't tell him?" Dean asked slowly.

"How do you explain something like that?" a slightly flustered Sam defended himself quickly.

Sighing, Dean met Bobby's questioning eyes again. "You see, the plan was only half camouflage," he explained and nodded towards Sam, "I liked it, so I put a ring on it."

Sam spluttered just as their old friend's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "I beg our pardon?" Bobby prompted.

Dean opened his mouth to elaborate, but his brother no longer trusted him with the task at hand and shushed him with nothing but a look. "Bobby, we should have told you this sooner, but it's kind of hard to explain," Sam began slowly and ran a hand through his hair, "the thing is, we both got shot a couple of months back."

If anything, Bobby's frown only deepened.

"By a Cupid," Sam added at last.

Their friend's eyes widened.

"When we finally noticed something was off about, well, _us_, we asked Cas for help," Sam elaborated, "by that time, it was already too late to do anything about this strange, supernatural..." He trailed off, stealing a cautionary glance at his brother.

"Infatuation," Dean supplied helpfully.

Shrugging, Sam redirected his look at Bobby, who could only stare back incredulously. "So you just went along with it?" the older hunter drawled at last, refusing to even think about the full weight of the revelation he had just been confronted with, "Since when has going with the Angels' plan ever been a good choice?"

So maybe he was being harsh.

So maybe he was being slow on the intake.

So maybe he just could not wrap his mind around the sudden harmony between the brothers being caused by an actual romance.

But as he saw Sam's face falling when he lowered his gaze with a soft sigh, as he watched Dean shifting to sit between them with his eyes slightly narrowed, Bobby finally understood that whatever this was and whoever it had been caused by did not even matter all that much.

He had not seen the boys that much at ease with each other in a long time.

On that notion, though...he had never seen them harmonizing quite like that before.

"What do you wanna hear, Bobby?" Dean demanded in defence, "that we tried fighting it? That we know we reached a new record on the scale of messed up relationships? That it's wrong in any sense?" Heaving a deep sigh, he shook his head. "I'm through with this crap, man," he declared wearily, "If anything, I wish we hadn't even bothered fighting for once. Condemn us if you want, but this is a good thing." Averting his gaze at last, he downed the remains of his beer. "The first good thing that's happened to us in years."

"Dean," Bobby clarified quickly, "I never said it was wrong." His voice grew more agitated as he, too, was facing a hard time finding the right words. "You're like sons to me, so whatever makes you...happy is fine by me." Pausing briefly, he heaved a sigh. "I'm merely asking you one thing," he finished, staring at both brothers in turn, "is it worth walking right into another one of Heaven's traps?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other, stared back at him and answered in unison, "Definitely."

* * *

- With Dean -

SEVEN MONTHS AGO

Nowadays, they rarely ever spoke in the mornings.

Especially when there was a job to be done.

Especially when the world was waiting to be saved again.

Especially when secrets, fears and grudges stood unexpressed between them.

"Breakfast?" Dean asked and grabbed his jacket.

"Yeah," Sam replied and followed.

There was much to be talked about, but nothing to be said.

..

SIX MONTHS AGO  
(Chapter 1)

Torn between a frown and a grin, Dean watched his brother. Somewhere along the line, he had been allowed some fun again.

And, well, last night's trip to the bar had not only been fun, but also highly educative in more ways than one. Aside from some incredible exercises, that tall blonde had offered him exactly the intel he had needed to crack a case they had already wasted an entire week on. He could not wait to see Sam's face when he told him.

Frowning, Dean rested his chin on his palm.

Then again, maybe he could wait just a little longer.

He had had a woman mere hours prior, and he barely ever saw his brother as relaxed as that. So there was nothing wrong and absolutely nothing gay about him watching the peaceful expression on Sam's face as he slept.

A while ago, and he did not even know why, catching a glimpse of that strangely soothing sight every other morning had become a bit of a ritual to him.

But as always, he remembered he could not keep staring forever.

"Rise and shine, Sammy," Dean called out and grinned when his brother jerked awake and glared at him in irritation.

"Dude, the alarm hasn't even gone off yet," Sam complained as he rubbed his eyes.

Dean just kept grinning. "If you get any more beauty sleep, you might just become a real princess."

..

FIVE MONTHS AGO  
(Chapter 2)

Things had grown tense between them ever since they had found the reason for their mutual attraction. If anything, their morning routines had become more strenuous.

"Hey, hand me the peanut butter, will you?" Dean asked his brother over the breakfast table.

After looking for it for a moment, Sam shoved the jar to his brother's side of the table.

Yet even though both had consciously tried to avoid it, their hands ended up brushing against each other. That brief contact along with their eyes meeting in just that moment rendered them immobile for an entire minute.

Averting his gaze at last, Dean glared at the table. "It'll get better," he grumbled unhappily, to assure both of them of the fact they could somehow overcome the Cupid's curse.

"Yeah," Sam agreed in annoyance and got up from the table, "You keep telling yourself that."

..

TWO MONTHS AGO

Ever since they had stopped fighting their feelings, they had become twice as effective as hunters – maybe because they were both looking forward to certain rewards at the end of the day, maybe because they simply _did_ work together better now.

In any case, they had another busy day ahead of them, so of course they could not waste the entire morning with certain pleasantries. As a matter of fact, they were already running late.

That mere logical consideration, however, had little power over Dean's libido, especially when the motel's thin walls allowed him to hear the shower running quite clearly.

The shower his brother was currently occupying.

Naked.

Groaning loudly, Dean shuffled over to the laptop. Thankfully, he knew just the right websites to get rid of the regrettably unwanted tension in his groin rather quickly.

Before long, and far too soon for him to accomplish anything, the door to the bathroom swung open, revealing Sam wearing a frustrated expression and nothing but a towel around his hips.

"Dude, what the hell!" Dean exclaimed and threw his hands in the air when he realized he would not be able to take his eyes off that wet torso any time soon. "How's any kind of porn supposed to beat _that_?"

A short moment of silence passed.

"Exactly," Sam replied at last, sounding almost as agitated as Dean did, and arched an eyebrow in challenge as he nodded towards the shower, "Just join me, man."

Needless to say, BustyAsianBeauties-dot-com lost a loyal customer that day.

* * *

- With Sam -

SEVEN MONTHS AGO

For four hours, they kept listening to the same Metallica album over and over again.

Nowadays, they rarely ever spoke while driving.

Especially when there was a job to be done.

Especially when the world was waiting to be saved again.

Especially when secrets, fears and grudges stood uexpressed between them.

..

SIX MONTHS AGO  
(Chapter 1)

Waking from a light slumber, the only kind of sleep the Impala's shock absorber allowed nowadays, Sam briefly wondered whether to just try falling asleep again when he caught sight of an expression of Dean's face that had grown regrettably rare lately.

Focused and almost – dare he say it? – _contented_, Dean kept his eyes trained on the road ahead with his head rocking slightly along to the rhythm of the Scorpions playing in the background.

If asked to describe his brother in one typical situation, Sam would tell about exactly what he was seeing in that moment. Driving the Impala, grim determination on his face, this was the Dean he knew and looked up to.

This was the Dean who suddenly turned his head to frown at him. "What?" he asked in slight irritation, "Something on my face again?"

..

FIVE MONTHS AGO  
(Chapter 2)

Travelling together with all that tension between them was getting harder and harder. As they were sitting in the Impala, they were so close Sam could actually see the nervous sweat running down his brother's forehead.

"Dude, stop watching me," Dean suddenly demanded, "you're creeping me out."

Sighing, Sam turned his head to stare out of the window. "And you're behaving like a child," he sighed.

Not that he could help it. Dean saw it as a curse rather than a blessing. If he had set his mind on ignoring their forcefully new-found feelings, there was nothing Sam could do about it.

Nothing except for leaving, that is, but he sincerely hoped he would not be forced to in the end.

..

ONE MONTH AGO

At long last, they had reached the only satisfying conclusion to their initial misery.

It still felt strange to think of his brother as his lover, but altogether, it was definitely worth it.

He had not seen Dean smiling like that in a long time.

And Sam wasn't getting scorned for staring that Dean as he was driving any more, either.

But the silence was getting unnerving, too.

Suddenly, though, Dean pulled over and stopped the car on an abandoned parking lot before turning his head to face his brother squarely. "New rule, Sammy," he announced gravely, "You stare at me for ten minutes flat, we find ourselves a motel."

While not exactly disinclined, Sam could not help frowning. "Dean, that wasn't ten minutes," he protested, if only to maintain his pride.

Rolling his eyes, the older brother dismissed the detail. "Still doesn't change the fact you were undressing me with your eyes," he replied off-handedly and cracked a sly grin, "So, how about it? Mind trying that with your teeth for once?"

* * *

NOW

"Castiel said the Cupid was merely meant to distract us," Sam summarized matter-of-factly, "But we're still working jobs. As a matter of fact, we're even more efficient now." He hesitated briefly, remembering their earlier encounter with the Djinn-vamp-duo, and added, "at least in most respects." He cleared his throat. "In any case, I don't want to miss this."

As he was watching the honesty in the younger Winchester's eyes, Bobby's own expression softened. "It's good to see you two at such good terms again," he admitted, "Just be careful, alright?" Pondering briefly, he added as an afterthought, "I wouldn't wanna miss the real wedding."

* * *

ONE WEEK LATER

Yawning, Sam sat up in the bed and looked around the room drowsily. Sure enough, he found Dean preparing leftovers for breakfast in the kitchen, humming a vaguely familiar Metallica tune all the while.

"Dude, I had the weirdest dream," Sam began with yet another yawn as he tried untangling his limbs from the sheets.

Meeting his brother's sleepy gaze with a grin, Dean could not suppress a chuckle, "I sure hope so." Without another word, he resumed his breakfast routine, humming even more loudly.

All the while, Sam gaped openly. "Dean, you didn't," he all but whined and slumped his shoulders, "not again."

"You told me not to grope you in your sleep, so I didn't," the older Winchester replied with a casual shrug, "You never said I couldn't whisper naughty words in you ear."

"Actually, I did warn you about that yesterday," Sam countered tiredly and strolled towards the bathroom, "Seriously man, as if you hadn't already traumatized me enough."

"Come on, Sammy, I didn't mention anything we haven't actually _done_ before," Dean chirped as he dropped two cardboard plates worth of re-heated pizza on the table, "Whatever crazy fantasies your subconsciousness turned it into technically isn't my fault." He grinned, "Though I sure wouldn't mind you telling me about those crazy fantasies."

A brief moment of silence passed until he heard a low groan from the bathroom. "They certainly didn't involve friggin lipstick," Sam retorted before he re-emerged from the bathroom, fixed Dean in a death glare and brushed several stray strands of hair behind his ear to expose a very red, very real love bite just underneath his jawline. "Seriously, dude?" he growled, "You stole – and _wore_ – lipstick off some poor woman because you've finally got an excuse to try out some new kinks?" Sighing, he shook his head and returned to the sink. "I'm officially revoking your man card, Dean."

"Gee, Sammy, don't be like that," Dean called out to him and lifted a bag of lip-shaped gummy bears, "If you'd found these in a store, you would have done the same." Grinning to himself, he pondered, "In any case, I had to cover the actual love bite with _something_, right?"

Releasing yet another sigh, Sam stopped rubbing the lipstick off his neck just to send his brother another angry glare through the open door. "You're insufferable, man," he grumbled and set back to his task.

Dean just kept chuckling. "We can always repeat the experience with you, you know, conscious," he suggested, earned another death glare and shrugged, "If it's any consolidation, though, I didn't steal that lipstick."

"Somehow I don't see you buying it, either," Sam replied offhandedly.

"Yeah, well, the clerk just gave it to me," Dean explained honestly.

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Threatening the clerk is even worse than stealing," he commented.

"I didn't steal it," Dean insisted and looked at the pizza, "I asked her some...questions and she took pity on me."

Sighing yet again, Sam gave in to his grumbling stomach and postponed his fight against the lipstick for the time being. "So let me guess," he deduced as he snatched the pizza out of Dean's hand and sat down at the table, "You failed to mention to her that the angry girlfriend you're trying to placate is male and actually your brother?"

Spitting on a napkin, Dean reached over to wipe the remaining lipstick off his brother's jaw. "I might have failed to mention that my cross-dressing little brother is kind of my girlfriend at the moment, yeah," he agreed with another stupid grin.

Rolling his eyes, Sam brushed Dean's hand away. "You're seriously trying to meet any clichés on homosexuals there are, aren't you?"

"This isn't about gays, dude," Dean clarified, "it's about relationships." Grabbing the newspaper spread out on the table, he pointed at one particular article. "Seven couples dead within the last four weeks, all of them newly-weds who had stayed a couple of nights at a five-star hotel in Illinois," he offered and grinned, "I still owe you a honeymoon, don't I? I think I found the perfect place."

* * *

THREE DAYS LATER

Mere minutes before meeting its end, the vengeful spirit had trashed the majority of the room, which was a pity, really.

After all, the Winchesters had "paid" for an unforgettable honeymoon. With a hunt completed in record time, it would be unforgettable alright. The honeymoon suite, however, had not survived it all that well. What had been a warm and inviting place much to Dean's liking before now looked like, well, the aftermath of their average battle.

Then again, though, the broken furniture and rock salt strewn all over the place did fit their lifestyle disturbingly well, too.

And they _had_ rented the room for a couple of nights.

So what else could they do but be all over each other?

What else could they do but live out their mutual passion for each other?

What else could they do but enjoy something life had denied them for so long?

Pleasure.

Trust.

Love.

"Say, Dean," Sam began long after both had collapsed on the mattress in sheer exhaustion, "back then, the Djinn that tried playing matchmaker – he showed you your desires, didn't he?"

Lying on his back with one hand under his head and the other still playing with Sam's hair, Dean replied with an absent-minded grunt.

"You never told me what you saw," Sam added, tilting his head to see his brother's face better, "What was it?"

Meeting those eyes, Dean chuckled to himself. "Well..."

* * *

BACK THEN...

"There you go, handsome." Handing Dean a glass of whiskey, the gorgeous blonde in a bunny outfit blew him a kiss. Raising the glass to her, he sent her his most charming smile. "This one's to you, Starla," he hummed and took a sip before returning his attention to the brunette bunny right in front of him. "And this one," he whispered and pointed at himself with a sly grin, "is to you, Crystal." Tilting her head seductively, she accepted his hands on her waist with a soft murmur. "How would you like your lap dance today, Dean?" she purred into his ear.

Chuckling quietly, Dean pulled her closer. "Surprise me," he murmured and was pleased to find her grinning back knowingly. "You're right, Dean-o," she whispered at a low voice, "It is time for your surprise, isn't it?"

He arched an eyebrow as she eased herself onto his lap, offering him a brilliant view of both her cleavage and the enormous cake four further bunnies where wheeling into the club. "Oh, I like where this is going," Dean grinned in anticipation as the music grew louder.

After all, this was the part where one of his favourite porn stars joined the party.

Slowly but surely, the music reached its crescendo.

Dean leant forward.

The spotlight was focused solely on the cake.

Dean licked his lips.

At long last, the lid of the cake sprung open with glitter and confetti.

Dean's grin widened.

Sparkling amidst the colourful spotlight, clad in a sleeveless Chippendale-esque outfit and looking absolutely nonplussed stood none other than Sam. He glanced down on himself and then back to his brother before chuckling in disbelief. "Seriously, Dean?"

Enjoying the sight before him, Dean licked his lips once again, approached his prey and pulled him closer by the collar with a lust-filled reply, _"Seriously, Sam."_

* * *

BACK NOW...

"Well?" Sam repeated, frowning softly when his brother had just trailed off instead of elaborating on his Djinn-induced experience.

Still grinning, Dean turned to lie on his side and replied at last, "Things were pretty much the same."

"They were?" Sam asked incredulously as his frown deepened. "So this," he elaborated and nodded towards the trashed room, "is your deepest desire?"

"You really gotta ask, man?" Rolling his eyes, Dean shook his head. "It's you, Sammy," he rasped as he leant over to steal yet another kiss and finally whispered into his brother's ear, "It's _us_."

Chuckling softly, Sam could not help agreeing. "I guess we are pretty awesome together, huh?" he grinned as he turned around and straddled his unsuspecting brother.

Not that Dean minded, of course. As a matter of fact, welcomed his brother's every moment. "Bitch, we're not awesome," he corrected gruffly and inhaled longingly when he felt Sam's hot breath on his neck, "_We're fucking amazing_."

Part 3 - End

* * *

**Notes:** Whoohoo.

Yeah, so, well, here we are, with a bit more scenes than necessary, but, oh well, I did not want to throw away stuff that had already been mostly written anyway. And Sam-Dean-interaction is so much fun to write (though Bobby is really hard to do, imho)

In any case, I hope you liked it. There will be a final bit soon that'll put some closure to it and set things back into the general plotline.

In any case, as always, thank you for reading! Please leave some feedback!


	4. A Supernatural Piece of Parchment

_Remember this story takes place in the second part of season 6. So, spoilers to that (somewhat).  
Also, please note this is the second (!) chapter uploaded this weekend!  
_

**A Supernatural Piece of Parchment**

* * *

A MONTH LATER

"Hey Cas, you hear me?" Dean called out towards the ceiling, "We found an old piece of parchment with some wacky properties." Hoping his friend would be listening, he waved the object in question around. "Letter of Divine Law, it says. Might be interesting to you, don't you think?"

Within half a second, the brothers heard the familiar sound of wings rustling. "I do not understand," Castiel began talking and did not even bother greeting them first, "The Letter of Divine Law has been guarded heavily for entire millennia. Not even Balthazar would dare stealing it." Frowning deeply, he approached Dean to take the parchment out of his hand, "How can it be here?"

"You tell me," Dean replied with a shrug, but kept watching the Angel attentively as his brows furrowed in confusion.

"What is this, Dean?" Castiel asked as he averted his eyes from the parchment, "This ordinary letter has nothing to do with the Divine Law."

"But is has everything to do with the Family Law," Dean countered.

If anything, Cas looked even more confused, "What are you trying to tell me?"

Sighing, Sam chose that moment to step in. "So with _'old parchment'_ we meant _'bought in a dollar store yesterday'_," he explained, "But that doesn't change the _'wacky properties'_. Just read it, Castiel."

Looking at both brothers sceptically, Castiel was about to object when he realized humouring them would be the faster option. He skimmed the contents quickly, but he still did not see what they were meant to tell him. "_We trust each other, we protect each other, we help each other_," he read out loud the most prominent line before meeting Dean's gaze once more, "What is this?"

"You're practically family to us, man," Dean replied heartily, "So we need you to know the rules."

Tilting his head, Castiel failed to follow. "While I am honoured, I do not see the occasion," he spoke slowly, "I do trust you without you telling me."

Sighing, Dean put his hand on the Angel's shoulder. "Not enough to let us help you, obviously," he countered and nodded towards the ceiling, "You're fighting a civil war up there all on your own. The thing is, you're not alone. Let us in, man."

Castiel's eyes widened and he stepped away from Dean's touch out of sheer guilt. If the brothers knew about the decisions he had had to make, they would stand against him. "I appreciate the offer," he replied solemnly and lowered his gaze, "But there is nothing you can do."

"You sure about that?" Dean asked and nodded towards the parchment caught creased in the Angel's tight grip, "Look at the backside."

Frowning once again, he caught sight of a carefully laid-out comparison on the assets and drawbacks of... His eyes widened again.

They knew he was planning to open purgatory. "How did you..." he asked, meeting Dean's eyes without ever finishing the question.

"Sammy's been obsessed with pro-con-lists, written commitments and lengthy chick-flicks ever since that marriage counsellor told us to _communicate_," he offered with a shrug as if that answered the question.

Taking another step back, Castiel averted his gaze – only to catch another glimpse of the list still in his hands. It was very well researched, he had to give them that much. True enough, his plan held far too many risks – the risk of him not being able to keep the souls inside, the risk of Crowley's betrayal, the risk of allowing monsters to roam free on Earth.

While far too many, those were only risks. None of that would have to happen, especially since... "I have no other choice," Castiel declared gravely, "Raphael needs to be beat, or the Apocalypse will start anew."

"We're with you on that, man," Dean replied with a soft sigh, "As a matter of fact, we're with you, no matter what."

Inhaling sharply, Castiel stared at his friend. Was Dean truly saying what it sounded like? That he actually meant it when he spoke about trusting each other? Sure enough, he was not standing amidst a ring of holy fire even though the brothers had found out about him conspiring with the King of Hell.

What else had they found out about, though?

"Guys," Sam spoke up from from the sidelines, where he was sitting on a chair, "Just, take a seat and let's talk things over properly, alright?"

Although he flinched slightly and sent the Angel a pitiful look, Dean followed the command quickly. Frowning slightly, so did the Castiel.

"See, Cas, we haven't asked you over to lecture you or anything, it's as Dean said – we want to help," Sam began and met the Angel's eyes, "You know we didn't manage foiling Heaven's matchmaking plan eventually, right?"

Nodding mutely, Castiel did not bother phrasing an actual reply. Even if he had not checked up on the brothers unseen, the golden rings around their fingers were enough of an indication.

Acknowledging his friend's reaction, Sam went on, "Well, if we learnt anything from that, it's that we could have avoided a whole lot of crap if we had trusted each other to talk things out." He met Dean's eyes briefly, to which the older Winchester replied with a shrug, before staring at the Angel twice as intently. "The same goes for you, Castiel," Sam explained softly, "If you're absolutely sure this is the right thing to do, we're with you on this. But you have to hear us out first."

Taken aback once more, Castiel was actually grateful for the armrest he could steady himself on. So the Winchesters were willing to trust him this far? "If there was any less dangerous way, don't you think I wouldn't have chose it?" he asked weakly.

"Well, yeah, but Crowley's a crafty bastard," Dean countered and cracked a grin when he handed his friends yet another piece of parchment, "Luckily for you, so are we."

Castiel's eyes widened when he recognized a relic he had not seen in many centuries. "The real Letter of Divine Law," he breathed in awe as he felt sheer energy pulsing through his veins from merely touching the parchment, "How did you...?"

"Been there, done that," Dean replied with a shrug, "Figured one of the more important treasures from Heaven wouldn't only power you up, but also make quite a decent bait." He tilted his head. "So what do you say, Cas?" he asked, "Do you really wanna eat a bag of monsters first, or will you join us on getting to the big fish right away?"

* * *

A WEEK LATER

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean asked.

Huffing softly, Sam managed unlocking the chains that had them both bound to a pillar at last. "Just a broken ankle," he replied as he pulled the metal off them both and crawled towards his partner, "You?"

Grateful to see his brother, Dean reached out to claim his hand with their fingers intertwined, hoping feebly it would help lessen the pain. "Just a flesh wound," he chuckled bitterly but could not help smiling a bit when he realized that, yes, Sam's mere presence still had that soothing effect on him.

But that did not make him hate their current situation any less. They might have managed getting rid of the Angelic guards Raphael had bestowed them with, but neither brother would be able to leave the cell, let alone fight. "Guess Cas'll have to do the rest without us, huh?" he commented dryly.

"That is no longer necessary."

Both brother's heads turned toward the source of their friend's voice.

Both brothers recoiled quickly when that sudden move caused pain in varying degrees – a pain that was gone as soon as Castiel touched their heads gently and brought them back to full health.

"The deed has been done," the Angel announced gravely, "Raphael has been defeated."

Still feeling slightly weakened, Dean needed his brother to help him back to his feet. But he kept blinking at Castiel all the while. "See?" he replied good-naturedly, "You didn't need Crowley's help after all."

"You are right," Castiel agreed with a nod and looked down at a worn-out piece of parchment in his hand, "You have offered me a valuable gift I intend to return."

Tilting his head to follow his friend's gaze, Dean frowned. "Dude, weren't you going to return that Letter to Heaven? It means the world to you guys, doesn't it?" he asked, squinted at the crumpled parchment and suddenly recognized _a freaking price tag_. His eyes widened.

"The Letter of Family Law has taught me valuable lessons," Castiel explained as he carefully pocketed the item again, "In accepting me, you have put more faith in me than I deserved. I have lied to you on more than one occasion, yet please allow me to rectify that error. At the very least, I owe you an explanation."

Unsure how to best begin, he found both brothers frowning at him. "You never really removed those Cupid marks, did you?" Sam suggested cautiously, "Or is there something else we should know?"

Eyes widening, Castiel took a deep breath. "I understood that, in spite of its initial reasoning, the Cupid's doing would benefit us all eventually," he explained and lowered his gaze, "That does not justify me lying to you, nor should I have made such an important decision without your consent."

For a short moment that felt like a long one, nobody said anything.

"Well, we've kind of suspected that much," Dean finally replied and met his brother's gaze briefly, "And guess what?" A lazy grin formed on his lips just as Castiel finally dared looking at him again, "We ain't even mad."

* * *

In forming a more than brotherly bond between Sam and Dean Winchester, the Angels had meant to keep them from interfering with their plans. The hunters should have stayed preoccupied with each other unless, or until, they were needed to take care of the King of Hell, his minions or any other supernatural phenomena Heaven could not be bothered with.

Yet none of the Angels behind that plan had taken into account how far the brothers' hunting passion truly went.

They had not realized the Winchesters' improved life style would increase their efficiency at work.

And they would never realize that it had been nothing but one simple supernatural infatuation that had eventually saved countless lives both in Heaven and on Earth.

- THE END -

* * *

**Notes**: Okay. I tried hard to find some kind of outcome to this that would not turn this entire love story sour (which would have been far too easy, really). And it just so happened that the only agreeable way I came up with was a bit too pink and fluffy even for my tastes (then again, I'm more of a drama-affine person anyway).

So without any further whining about what could've and what should've been, I finally close this fic properly.

If you enjoyed it, or if there's something you'd advise me to do better next time, or if there's anything you'd like to say at all, please leave a review. I'd really like to know you overall opinion, especially now that it's finished (40 views on the last chapter and no reaction yet D: )

In any case, thank you all for reading, and see you next time!


End file.
